How Things Are Supposed To Be
by GeniaTheParadox
Summary: It's been seven years since the Second War. Hermione is about to get married to Ron. But her dreams are filled with fantasies of someone else, memories of an unforgettable affair...
1. Chapter 1

So this was the first proper fanfic that I ever wrote, about a million years ago when I was fifteen.  
>I've revised it and added stuff, but it's pretty much the same as my original.<br>Also, it's kind of long so I wont have little notes like this before every single chapter.  
>I'm sure that'll just get annoying after a while, so... :P<p>

But yeah. I've had this fic brewing and developing in my brain for about five years, so it's kind of my head-canon now and it's the reason why I ship Dramione so hard. Hopefully you'll all like it, Humble Readers.

If you do, tell me so in the form of some kind of review :)

And clearly I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with it. That all belongs to Her Majesty JK Rowling. I am just a lowly Muggle-born Squib writing stories about her creations.

* * *

><p><strong>How Things Are Supposed To Be<strong>

**Part One**

Hermione woke with a start, breathing heavily. By her expression you would be forgiven for thinking that the dream she had woken from was more of a nightmare, but it wasn't. It was a pleasant dream, somewhere between a fantasy and a memory. She'd been having the same dream, or something very similar, for the past six years, and ever since she'd gotten engaged the dreams had become even more vivid and lifelike.

She turned her head, looking at her gently snoring fiancée beside her, and was filled with guilt. How could she be dreaming of another man while Ron slept right next to her? She sat up, hugging her knees and feeling terrible. She was getting married in less than a week, and although strictly speaking she was happy, she couldn't help but think that maybe she was doing the wrong thing. Maybe Ron wasn't the person she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with.

She shook herself, as if trying to shake the thoughts out of her head. Of course she was meant to be with Ron! She had known that since, well... _forever!_ She should be dreaming of him and certainly not dreaming of Draco Malfoy! But as she shut her eyes it was only Draco that she saw. All she could think of was his sparkling grey eyes, his soft, silver blonde hair, his porcelain skin, and his tender lips against hers...

'_Stop it!'_ she told herself. _'Stop thinking about him! You're getting married, for Merlin's sake!'_

The relationship she had had with Draco happened six years ago, but she still couldn't stop thinking about it. In the short time that they were together, a year after the Second War, they had grown to care for one another and eventually fallen in love. But they both knew it could never last. Hermione was convinced that no one would accept it. Harry would surely think it was a huge, traitorous insult for his best friend to start a relationship with Draco Malfoy – his sworn enemy since the age of eleven, the young Death Eater who tried to kill Dumbledore, and the pureblood Slytherin that had once called her a Mudblood. Hermione knew all this, but she also knew the _real_ Draco. She knew and loved the son who had been taught the wrong values and didn't know any better, the victim who was forced to do the Dark Lord's bidding with his parents' lives used as ransom, and the helpless man who was disowned by his family for finally thinking for himself. It was for that reason that Draco had come to Grimmauld Place.

He was allowed to stay at the Order headquarters until he was able to sort himself out, mainly because he was in such a bad state when he arrived. Draco's father had always been violent when it came to punishing him, but when Lucius found out that his son had become a blood traitor it had pushed him over the edge. Growing up in Malfoy Manor, Draco was taught to accept his father's beliefs as truth or suffer the consequences, and that rule didn't just apply to him, but his mother too. He had a vivid memory from when he was five years old of seeing his mother being smacked in the face so hard she fell to the floor and being told to behave more like the proud pureblood she was, rather than 'some filthy Muggle-lover'.

Draco knew never to speak out of line and too keep his doubts to himself. But one night it became all too much to handle. Lucius made a comment about Hermione Granger being named 'The Greatest Witch of Our Time' in an article in _The Daily Prophet_, asking contemptuously how a filthy little Mudblood like her could ever be called a great witch. The feelings Draco had been holding back for so long suddenly came pouring out of him. He called Lucius a foolish old man (amongst other, less polite, things) for still believing in all that pureblood nonsense, especially since it was Hermione Granger who had played a huge part in the fall of the Dark Lord – who, if he was still alive, probably would have killed Lucius ages ago. Draco was so brutally beaten and tortured for his outburst that if his mother hadn't of intervened he almost certainly would have bled to death on the drawing room floor.

When he was thrown out of the Manor he hadn't fully recovered from his injuries. He was covered in cuts and bruises all over his face and body, and many of his ribs were still broken, making it incredibly painful every time he tried to breath. He needed refuge, but he had no idea where to go.

As he Disapparated from the grounds of the place he had once called home, he was almost surprised to find himself standing outside Grimmauld Place. He stepped forward and saw number twelve magically appear in front of him, the Muggles in the houses next door completely unaware. Draco staggered up the steps to the front door, the searing pain making him feel lightheaded and woozy. He knocked on the door, not expecting anyone to answer. He wasn't sure why he had come here, and he wouldn't have been surprised if he had the door slammed in his face and was left to die on the cold pavement. He felt like dying anyway.

By the time someone answered the door Draco was close to fainting. He had to hold onto the doorframe to stop from falling over. It was Hermione who answered, and her first reaction was to reach for her wand.

"No – wait!" he said before she could hex him.

"What on Earth are you doing here, Malfoy?" Hermione said, glaring at him.

"Please," he said, finding it harder and harder to breath. "Please... help me..."

Hermione's glare faltered, but she didn't lower her wand. "What happened to you?"

"My father..." Draco gasped. "He... he tortured me... he says I'm... I'm a blood traitor... because I defended... Muggle-borns... please... I have nowhere... nowhere to go... nothing... please, help me..."

Draco looked as if he was about to keel over any second. Hermione frowned and slowly lowered a wand, her eyes lingering on his sore black eye and the nasty cut on his head.

"Fine," she said, moving aside to let him pass.

As he went inside he saw through steadily blurring vision that the house was just as bleak and eerie as it had been when he would come to visit his grandparents and great aunt and uncle as a child. He'd never really liked it. All those house elf heads gave him the creeps when he was little.

Just as the door was shut behind him the old portrait of his Great Aunt Black began to scream "FILTH! MUDBLOODS! BLOOD TRAITORS! STAINS OF DISHONOR DARING TO SET FOOT IN THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!"

The words made Draco wince. He hated the word Mudblood now. Great Aunt Black suddenly noticed him and stopped shouting.

"Ah, young Draco," she cooed. "It's so lovely to see you again, my darling little nephew. Have you come to get rid of the blood traitors dirtying my house? And that disgusting little Mudblood?"

Draco gave Hermione a guilty look as she hurried over to shut the velvet curtains around the foul portrait. Finally he could no longer stand the pain. The last things he remembered hearing were Hermione's shriek as he fell to the ground with a thud, footsteps rushing towards him, and a voice shouting "What the hell is _he_ doing here?" before he fell unconscious.

Hermione explained to Harry and Ron what had happened to Draco, but they were still very sceptical and only let him stay very begrudgingly. She didn't really know why she felt so sorry for Draco, but she knew that it would be wrong not to help him. She'd never seen him looking so weak and fragile and helpless. What he had told her was convincing once she saw all his injuries, and she had seen how guilty he looked when the portrait begun to shout obscenities. Maybe he really _had_ changed. Maybe he had finally seen the error of his ways.

Hermione spent the next three weeks nursing Draco back to health. If she hadn't let him into the house and helped him, he probably would have died from his severe injuries. Harry helped her move him into one of the bedrooms, and Hermione read every book on Healing she could find in order to treat Draco as best she could. For the first few days he was unconscious, but when he finally woke up the first thing he did was thank her.

"I don't deserve your kindness, Granger," he said, his voice sounding croaky. "I'm a terrible person."

"What you didn't deserve was what your father did to you," she replied, pouring him a cup Skele-Gro to mend his ribs. "He's the terrible person, not you."

"So you do believe me then?" he asked, trying to sit up. "You believe that I'm sorry, and that I don't think that way about Muggle-borns anymore?"

Hermione nodded, quickly helping him up and placing a fluffy pillow behind his back.

"Everyone deserves a second chance, Malfoy," she said.

"Even me?" he chuckled, before regretting it as laughing made his chest hurt.

"Yes, even you," she said, smiling.

Draco couldn't have been more appreciative, and thanked Hermione as often as possible for saving him. Once he was actually awake, Hermione was surprised at how much she enjoyed Draco's company. At first it felt strange, considering how extraordinarily nice and courteous he was being to her. He seemed to be genuinely grateful that she was there, especially considering how horribly she used to treat her. But they managed to form a very unlikely, but very close friendship.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked one morning.

Hermione was stood over a hot cauldron in the kitchen, her hair even bushier from the steam. She didn't look up from her work when she answered.

"I'm brewing a potion for Malfoy," she said, checking something in the large spell book beside her. "Something to help with the tremors he's been having. The Cruciatus Curse was used on him so much and so powerfully that his hands can't stop trembling. He can't even hold a knife and fork to feed himself. I'm hoping this Nerve-Calming Solution will help."

"That wasn't what I meant," said Harry, watching her stir the potion carefully. "I meant what are you doing with Malfoy?"

"What do you mean?" she said, still focused on her work.

"I mean, why are you looking after him?" he said. "It's _Malfoy_, for Merlin's sake. It's not like he'd do the same for you in this situation."

"Well, what would you have me do, Harry?" she said, suddenly glaring at him. "Would you rather I had just slammed the door in his face and let him die in the street? His own father nearly tortured him to death because he _changed_. He finally realised how stupid all that pureblood mania was and he stood up to his dad. He doesn't deserve to die just for finally seeing sense. And it doesn't matter what he's done to us in the past. The least we could do is show a bit of humanity, even if it is _Malfoy_."

She poured some of the finished potion into a goblet, Harry watching her awkwardly and suddenly wishing that he hadn't said anything.

Just before she left the room, she turned and said "I don't want to have the argument with you too, Harry. I've already had it about a hundred times with Ron."


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

Although Harry had decided to just leave Hermione to it to avoid unnecessary arguments, Ron hated that she was spending so much time looking after Draco and he didn't even try to hide it. In those first three weeks, when Draco was still recovering, Ron seemed to be in a constant foul mood. He was acting as if Draco had almost died on purpose just to annoy him and sap away all of his girlfriend's time and attention. He didn't care how selfish it made him sound – the sooner Draco Malfoy was out of the house, the better.

When the Second War was over, Ron and Hermione's relationship was stronger than ever and she was sure that she loved him, even if they did fight a lot. It was a long time coming, after all. But after the arrival of Draco they barely spoke to one another except to have a raging argument, and it was usually Ron who starting the fighting, mainly with the phrase "What do you have to spend so much bloody time with Malfoy?"

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. They were getting ready for bed and she was brushing her hair at her dressing table. She really didn't have the energy for this.

"Because I'm looking after him," she said, exhausted.

"He's not even bed-ridden anymore," Ron said, grumpily. "You don't need to spend every second of the day with him, Hermione. He's just milking it for all it's worth, typical Malfoy..."

"No, he isn't," she said, trying and failing not to rise to Ron's obvious need for a fight. "He's been badly affected by everything that's happened to him, and I'm just keeping him company. It's called being a good person, Ron. It's not a crime, and it's not as if anybody else is willing to."

"I don't understand why you even care about that evil little ferret!" Ron said, his voice getting louder. "He used to treat you like crap!"

"Exactly!" she said impatiently. "He _used to_, but he's changed now!"

"Oh, whatever," he scoffed. "I can't believe you of all people actually believe him!"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she said shrilly.

"Merlin's pants, 'Mione, I thought you were smart!" he shouted. "But obviously not if you believe that lying git!"

She slammed her hairbrush on the table in a seething rage, standing up and turning to Ron. He was standing by their bed, fuming, and his entire face was red with anger, right up to the tips of his ears.

"So now I'm stupid for believe that he deserves a second chance?" Hermione said angrily.

"Yes, you are!" Ron yelled, spitefully. "So what if he says he's learnt his lesson? Nothing changes the fact that he used to be a Death Eater!"

"Do you honestly think that I would go anywhere near him if he was the same old Malfoy?" she said, so angry she was close to tears. "If you paid any attention to your surroundings, you would have noticed that he's actually made the effort to get to know me, and he hasn't once made any reference to me being Muggle-born, which the old Malfoy certainly wouldn't have done! You are so blinded by hatred, Ronald, and if you didn't insist on being so selfish and jealous you..."

But she never got to finish her sentence. Ron suddenly stepped towards her, backing her into the dressing table and looking angrier than ever.

"Jealous?" he spat, his teeth gritted. "_Jealous?_ You seriously think I'm jealous of _him?"_

His face was inches from her, his eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. Hermione tried her best to hide her fear, but she was sure he was about to smack her. But then suddenly he turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him with so much force that the whole bedroom shook. She sat down on the edge of the bed, trembling, and started to cry. She'd had countless arguments with Ron before, but never had she actually felt scared of him. She rested her head in her hands and wept.

After a while there was a knock on the door. She looked up, wiping the tears from her cheek and saying in an almost normal voice that they could come in. The bedroom door opened and Draco stepped inside, quietly shutting the door behind him. He stood awkwardly by the door in just his pyjama bottoms, his white blonde hair untidy and grown out, his soft, porcelain skin still badly scarred from his father's curses, even though he was now in perfect health. Hermione could feel herself blushing as he looked sympathetically at her. About a year ago, seeing Draco Malfoy show sympathy towards _anyone_, let alone Hermione Granger, would have been unimaginable. But now it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" he asked tentatively. "I heard raised voices and Weasley storming off downstairs. I could hear him swearing to himself as he walked past my room."

Hermione wiped her eyes and took a deep breath to calm down.

"I'm fine, Draco," she answered. "Really, it's okay."

Her quiet, shaky voice gave her away though. Draco could see that her eyes were red and puffy from crying. She was obviously not fine. He went and sat down beside her on the bed, putting his arm around her. He'd never actually comforted anyone before – he'd never cared about anyone enough to want to do so – and with anyone else he would have felt awkward and uncomfortable. But with Hermione it came naturally. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to look after he just like she had looked after him.

"I can only assume the two of you were arguing about me," he said.

Hermione gave a weak nod. The arguments she'd had with Ron were always fierce, and when her frustration got too much she would always go into Draco's room to vent about it. She didn't blame him for assuming.

"He just doesn't understand," she said, trying not to cry again. "He's being so stubborn. He refuses to believe that you've changed, and he thinking that I'm stupid just for daring to be nice to you."

"Well, that doesn't make any sense," Draco smiled and gave her a small squeeze. "You are, by far, the least stupid person I have ever met."

Hermione found herself blushing again – she always did whenever Draco was being really nice to her – and her stomach fluttered at his compliment.

"I just wish Ron would give you a chance," she said sadly. "He only seems to believe what he wants to believe. He doesn't want to admit that you've clearly changed because it would mean he'd have one less reason to hate you. I'm sure he hopes that you still see me as nothing more than a filthy little Mudblood."

Draco flinched, as if the word physically hurt him.

"Well, I don't," he said defiantly. "I don't think that way about you at all, and I'm sorry that I ever did."

"I know, Draco," she said, resting her hand on his knee. "I've already forgiven you. It's all in the past."

His stomach did a little flip when he felt her hand on his knee, but he tried not to dwell on it. He never tired of hearing that she had forgiven him, but he wanted her to really understand.

"I was ignorant back then," he said. "Just like the rest of my family. I believed what my father told me to believe and I was behaving the way he expected me to behave. I was too young to really question it, but if I ever did, or if I ever did anything he disapproved of I was punished. I can't remember the amount of times he used the Cruciatus Curse on me without the slightest bit of remorse. He was just teaching me a lesson." He put on the deep, drawling voice of his father. "_Malfoys do not associate themselves with those who are not of pure ancestry Malfoy do not behave like common, filthy Muggle-lovers._"

Hermione looked at him with wide eyes, listening in shock. Draco had never told her any of this before. He didn't like to mention his father if he could help it.

"That's awful," she said, horror-struck. "He used the Cruciatus Curse on you, on his own child? That's just sick... and illegal."

"I know," Draco agreed. "It's ridiculous. But after the punishment he would always buy me something expensive to make up for it and I just went along with it. That was what was expected of the heir of Lucius Malfoy. It was nothing that I didn't deserve. I was proud to be a pureblood, and I believed all that inherited prejudice that my father taught me because I didn't know any better. But as I got older I started to see how stupid it all was. Of course, it was too late by then. I'd taken the Dark Mark, just like my father had always wanted me to. I was branded the villain, quite literally."

His left arm – which was around Hermione's shoulders – twitched slightly. The Dark Mark, the mark that all Death Eaters were branded with, was still burnt onto his skin. It had faded since Lord Voldemort was killed, but it was still visible, a constant reminder of all Draco's mistakes. Hermione had noticed it when she had been treating his injuries, but she didn't ever mention it.

"I never said anything," he continued, quieter. "I never let on that I was having second thoughts. But... but that night really confirmed it all."

He looked sadly at the floor as Hermione stared at him. His arm fell from her shoulder and onto the bed.

"What night?" she asked gently, unsure if she really wanted to know.

Draco hesitated. "That – that night when you and Potter and Weasley were brought to the Manor by those Snatchers... having to watch my Aunt Bellatrix torture you like that..."

He trailed off, the horrible memory flooding back. He could almost hear the sound of Hermione's screams of pain echoing around the room as she was repeatedly cursed by Bellatrix. The thought made him shudder.

"I was so scared," he continued, his voice even quieter. "I'm not ashamed to admit that to you. Even before that night I was scared. The Dark Lord was using my house as headquarters. He was forcing me to torture people, I had to watch people be murdered right in front of me, and I was expected to believe that this was right. But that night was the worst because it was you. You were the same age as me, and just as innocent and undeserving. I wanted to help you but I was powerless. All I could do was stand back and watch you get hurt at the hands of my own aunt, like so many others. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see Potter and Weasley, because I knew they would find some way to get you out of there. I'm not sure what I would have done it I have to see you left at the mercy of Greyback..."

He couldn't say anymore, it was too difficult. He had never told anybody about that night before, about how much it had haunted him ever since, but with Hermione he felt like he could tell her anything. It was a level of trust and understanding that he had never shared with anyone else before. He could feel tears prickling his eyes and he struggled to hold them back as they threatened to escape. He didn't want to cry in front of Hermione.

He looked up to find that she was still staring at him, fresh tears pouring from her wide, chocolaty brown eyes. He wiped the tears from her cheek with his thumb and she found herself closing her eyes at the feel of his touch. His hand lingered on her cheek for a second, before moving to her hair. He brushed a frizzy, brown curl out of her face as she looked deep into his eyes. She used to think that his eyes were cold and emotionless, mainly because he only ever used to look down on her. But now they looked so warm and tender and they shone in the candlelight like silver.

She didn't know why exactly, but she found herself smiling up at him, and Draco smiled back. He had never noticed how beautiful Hermione looked when she smiled, and it made his heart suddenly race. He wanted to keep making her smile forever, no matter what it took. Her smile made him feel something he had never felt before, almost like true happiness. Without really thinking, her leaned forward and kissed her very softy, his lips just grazing hers. Feeling embarrassed, her made to pull away, sure that he had made a mistake and misread her kindness. But Hermione responded by kissing him back with enthusiasm, wrapping her arms around his neck and running her fingers through his hair. His hands moved from her face and down to her waist, pulling her closer, as their kiss became deeper and more passionate. She hadn't even realised just how much she really wanted him until now. She would never admit it to herself because of Ron, but now, with the unknowably amounts of lust and need pouring from the both of them, she just didn't care anymore.

Their lips parted after what seemed like an eternity. They looked at each other and grinned, blushing slightly. Hermione suddenly turned and picked up her wand from the bedside table. She pointed it at the door and silently placed a charm on it that meant no one could get into the room or hear what was going on inside. She put her wand back down and turned to face Draco, blushing even harder, and quite abruptly they were kissing all over again.

The whole night was so perfect and neither of them wanted it to end. Hermione rested her head on Draco's chest, being soothed by the sound of his heartbeat syncing with hers, as Draco wrapped his arms around her protectively, tracing patterns on the soft skin under his fingertips. They lay together under the duvet, not really needing to talk. Neither could think of anything to say anyway. No words could properly describe just how happy they were, or how safe they felt as they held each other. It was that night that Hermione dreamt of every time she went to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three**

They kept their affair a secret during Draco's stay at 12 Grimmauld Place. Ron no longer wanted to stay in Hermione's room, and even if he had wanted to she wouldn't have let him, so every night Draco would sneak in to see her and leave early in the morning. When they were together they would make love all night, or just simply talk for hours, falling asleep in each other's arms before Draco would sneak back into his own room before the sun came up.

Draco's stay lasted just over three months, and everyone now accepted that his story was the truth and he really had changed. Even Harry had formed a kind of weird truce with him. But Ron didn't care. He continued to be rude to Draco and he gave Hermione the silent treatment. Not that either of them took any notice of Ron. They were lost in each other. Nothing else mattered.

Hermione introduced Draco to all the Muggle things that she loved, especially her favourite play by the Muggle writer, William Shakespeare, _Romeo and Juliet._ Draco read it while he was recovering, Hermione happily explaining anything he didn't understand, and he found it all fascinating. He enjoyed how poetic it was, and the tragic romance of it all.

One night Draco snuck into Hermione's room with the book in his hand. Hermione immediately placed the charms on the door, before rushing over to kiss him and leading him over to her bed.

"I've finished reading this, by the way," Draco said once their lips separated.

Hermione was straddling him on her bed, and hadn't even realised that he was holding her book.

"Oh, brilliant," she said, taking it from him. "So you liked it then?"

"Definitely," he said, sitting up on his elbows. "Once I got the hang of the Shakespearian language, it was really great. Really sad and everything, but in an amazing kind of way."

"So glad you think so, Draco," she said, flicking absentmindedly through the old book. "Most people don't really give Shakespeare a chance, purely because it's written in old English and full of metaphors and similes. But if it had been written in plain English it wouldn't have been nearly as interesting, and people certainly wouldn't still be talking about after centuries. It's influenced so much Muggle culture, but some people just don't get it."

Draco looked up at her and smiled. "You really love this book, don't you?"

"It's my favourite," she said, her cheeks turning pink. Draco though she looked so cute when she blushed. "I've had this book for years. Before I started at Hogwarts my parents took me to go and see _Romeo and Juliet_ at the Globe Theatre – that's the original theatre where Shakespeare's places were performed when he first wrote them – and it was beautiful. Most witches and wizards don't bother with Muggle literature, but I love it."

"You'll certainly need to lend me some more, Hermione," said Draco.

Hermione bit her lip a little nervously, shutting her book.

"You can... you can keep this," she said quietly. "If you want."

Draco smiled, sitting up more and resting his hands on her hips.

"You're actually giving me your book?" he asked. "Your favourite book that you've had for years?"

Hermione nodded. "I know it's a bit tatty and old, but..."

"It doesn't matter," Draco interrupted, chuckling. "This book means a lot to you, do you really want to give it to me?"

"I know the whole play off by heart," she said. "Consider it a gift."

He took the book from her, unsure of what to say. Yes, it was old and worn out, the pages torn and dog-eared and the cover peeling, but it didn't matter. His parents used to buy him the best of everything, but those expensive gifts didn't really have much meaning. This was the first sentimental gift he had ever been given, and he knew he would treasure it forever. He looked at the inside cover, where _'Property of Hermione Jean Granger'_ was written in neat little handwriting.

"It still has your name in it though," he said. "It's not really _mine_."

Hermione the book out of his hand and got quickly off the bed. Draco watched her go over to her desk, fill a quill with ink and write something on the inside cover. Then she went back to the bed, sitting beside him and giving him back the book. Draco looked at it and grinned. Underneath her name, Hermione had written _'and Draco Abraxus Malfoy'_.

"Now it belongs to both of us," she said with a smile.

Draco really couldn't think of a thing to say, so he put the book down beside him and pulled Hermione into a sweet kiss, which they both smiled into.

Draco really wasn't used to having someone care about him as much as Hermione did. He didn't have any real friends back at Hogwarts, just cronies and acquaintances. The closest thing he had ever had to a girlfriend was Pansy Parkinson, who lusted after him, much to his disgust. She was vile and clingy and infatuated, not just with him but with the fact that he was a Malfoy – a wealthy pureblood Slytherin. The only reason he even allowed her to fawn all over him was because she was a pureblood Slytherin too, someone his father would approve of.

But Hermione didn't care about anything that had happened in the past. He could be himself with her, something he had never been able to do with anyone else. His pride never got in the way of showing how kind and sensitive he could be, and all his old prejudices had gone. His father had taught him as a child that Muggles and Muggle-borns were somehow backward, that not having magic made you no better than an animal. He knew it wasn't true and Hermione was living proof. She showed him how narrow-minded his father's beliefs were. She opened his eyes and made him feel truly loved.

But it was something quite unexpected that made Draco realise that he really did love her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

Draco groggily turned over in his sleep, expecting to feel Hermione lying next to him. But there was nothing. He suddenly became aware that the bed he was lying in felt somehow different. He was sure that Hermione's bed in 12 Grimmauld Place wasn't this large and the sheets certainly weren't this silky. He opened his eyes and saw that he was back in his bedroom at Malfoy Manor.

"What the...?" he croaked, brushing his messy white-blonde hair out of his face.

Suddenly there was a long, drawn out, blood-curdling scream from the floor below that made him sit upright with a start. He knew that scream. It was the same scream that had been haunting his dreams for over a year. It was –

"Hermione!"

He scrambled off the bed and out of the room, running down the stairs two steps at a time. There was another scream which sounded more like a pleading cry of agony, and it was coming from the drawing room. Draco rushed over to the large double doors and swung them open.

Lying on the floor by the fire place was the trembling form of Hermione. He rushed over and dropped to his knees beside her. She looked so weak. She was barely conscious, her breathing was short and quick and she was covered with lots of little cuts and bruises.

"...Draco," she whispered in a strained voice.

"Hermione, sweetheart, what happened to you?" he said, his voice filled with dread.

His heart was racing and all he could feel was panic. Who had done this to her?

"Well, isn't this a charming scene," said a deep, drawling and frighteningly familiar voice.

'_No,'_ he thought. _'It couldn't be...'_

Draco slowly turned to face none other than his father, who stood with his cane in one hand and his wand in the other, disgust etched across his pale, pointed face. Even more fear washed over Draco when he saw that right behind his father stood his Aunt Bellatrix, her wand also in hand, a look or pure sadistic pleasure in her mad eyes.

"W-what have you done to her?" he said, trying to hide the fear in his voice and failing miserably.

Bellatrix let out a girlish, sinister giggle.

"Awww!" she cooed in a babyish voice. "The traitor is worried about is ickle Mudblood girlfwend!"

"There is no need to worry, Draco," Lucius drawled. "She only received what a filthy little Mudblood like her deserves."

Bellatrix was still giggling happily. Draco tried to suppress how truly terrified he was, but he could hardly breath from the fear. Suddenly Lucius raised his wand and pointed it right at Draco's chest.

"And now," he said, as Bellatrix laughed menacingly. "You shall receive what a blood traitor like you deserves."

Draco felt the curse hit him with overwhelming force. It was a pain like no other. He had never felt pain like it in his entire life. It felt like all of his joints were being twisted, like all his bones were being broken at once, his fingernails were being ripped out with pliers and his skin was being scratched with sharp claws. He wanted the pain to end. He knew he was screaming but he didn't hear it. The pain was all consuming. He wanted to die. He was sure this pain would drive him into insanity...

And then, as quickly as it started, it was over. Draco found himself lying on the floor next to a sobbing Hermione, his body aching and his face streaked with tears.

"Had enough, Drakie-poo?" said Bellatrix in that same cruel, babyish voice, looking down at him with mock sympathy. "Or does the filthy blood traitor still need to be taught a lesson?"

"No! Don't hurt him!" cried Hermione, trying to sit up, as Bellatrix raised her wand.

The malicious grin disappeared from Bellatrix's face and was replaced with an angry sneer. She and Lucius' eyes fell upon the cowering Hermione.

"I don't remember anyone giving you permission to speak, Mudblood," said Lucius dangerously.

"It insists on showing off its Gryffindor bravery," said Bellatrix, more to herself than anyone else. "But the filthy Mudblood will know better when I'm through with it."

She aimed her wand at Hermione's chest and shouted "_Crucio!_"

Hermione's screamfilled the room and crashed against Draco's eardrums. The sound of her scream hurt him worse than the Cruciatus Curse had done. It cut into him like a cold knife.

"Stop it!" he pleaded. "She's done nothing wrong! Stop!"

The curse was lifted and Hermione was left whimpering on the ground.

"She has done _everything_ wrong," Lucius spat. "She has dared to call herself a witch when she has filthy Muggle blood in her veins. And now you, of such pure and noble blood, have been seduced by this scum. I thought I had taught you better than that, Draco."

"Oh, save your breath, Lucius," Bellatrix insisted, looking slightly bored. "That dirty, Muggle-loving little traitor isn't worth the trouble."

An evil grinned spread across her face, and when she next spoke her voice was filled with frightening affection.

"The Dark Lord will set you straight, my traitorous little nephew. And take care of your Mudblood girlfriend too."

"No..."

But it was too late. Bellatrix had pushed back the sleeve of her robes and, with a mad cackle, pressed her two fingers against her Dark Mark, calling her beloved Master to the scene. Draco's own Dark Mark burned black on the skin of his left arm, as if he's just been branded with a hot poker. Nothing but terror possessed him. The Dark Lord was coming, Hermione was completely unconscious now and he himself was wandless and unable to defend her. They were going to die, he just knew it. He could see no way of escaping.

Lucius pulled him roughly to his feet by the hair and held his wand at his throat. Bellatrix's face was swimming with admiration and joy as Lord Voldemort Apparated into the drawing room, his red eyes blazing, his pale skin giving off an eerie glow in the light of the fire.

"My Lord," said Bellatrix, bowing her head respectfully, her eyes wide as if she had never seen anybody or anything as awe-inspiring as him.

"Where is the blood traitor?" he said, ignoring her greeting.

A shiver crept down Draco's spine at the sound of the Dark Lord's cold, high voice.

"Here, my Lord," said Lucius, tightening his grip on the terrified Draco.

"Good," said Voldemort softly. "It pains me, Lucius, to see your only son reduce to _this_," He gestured towards Hermione dismissively. "But hopefully the events of tonight will teach him that, although he may have a fleeting desire for her, this Mudblood is unworthy of his affections. I know that those who have had their minds polluted usually pay for their disloyalty with their lives, but I believe young Draco has potential and it would be a shame to spill any pure magical blood. He may have given in to temptations now, but once he is shown the consequences I am sure that he will know better than to stray again."

Voldemort drew his want from his black, billowing robes and pointed it down at the unconscious Hermione.

"Witnessing the death of this worthless thief of magic will show you the error of your traitorous ways, Draco."

Draco felt as if he was about to implode with the sheer horror he was feeling. He couldn't stand back and watch his Hermione be murdered.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Draco managed to fight his way out of his father's clutches. As he heard the Dark Lord say those two horrible words that ended all life as if coming from a great distance, he threw himself forward and crouched over Hermione, shielding her body with his own. As the room was engulfed by a flash of blinding green light, he was sure that he could hear Hermione say his name...

"Draco!"

He woke up with a start, his heart throwing itself against his chest like he'd just run a marathon. He could feel the bed sheets sticking to his sweaty skin. It took him a while to remember where he was. He was expecting to see his father and Bellatrix looming over him, followed closely by the Dark Lord himself, wand aloft, ready to kill. But that wouldn't have made any sense... his father didn't even know where he was, and Bellatrix and the Dark Lord had been dead for over a year.

"Draco, are you okay?"

He turned to see Hermione sitting up beside him with the bed sheets covering her naked body, looking concerned. He was trying to think of something to say to her, but his brain didn't seem to be functioning properly just yet.

"Sweetheart, you were talking in your sleep," she said, sounding worried. "It sounded like you were having a nightmare."

"What was I saying?"Draco managed to say quietly.

Hermione looked weary. "You were saying my name. And you were... you were begging someone not to hurt me. You sounded so scared, Draco. I just had to wake you."

Draco sat up very suddenly and gave Hermione a long, tight hug. He could tell that she was confused, but she hugged him back just as tightly. She could tell that he needed it.

"You don't have to tell me what you were dreaming about if you don't want to, love," she said as they parted.

He wanted to tell her, as he knew that she would be able to comfort him, but he just couldn't. He kissed her goodnight and went back into his own room, but as he lay in his bed sleep just wouldn't find him. All he could think about was his dream. He needed to protect Hermione, protect her from those who would never approve of them being together, protect her from people that he was once just like. Draco knew then that what he felt for Hermione was serious. His relationship with her was more than just a fling. He loved her. He loved her more than he had ever loved anyone before. And he would rather die than live in a world without her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

Draco knew that he was in love with Hermione and with her he had never felt happier, but all good things have to come to an end. One morning, he received a letter from his mother.

_My dearest Draco, _

_I hope this letter reaches you, wherever you are, and I hope more than anything that you are safe. Inspired by your amazing bravery, I have finally found the courage to leave your father and move out of the Manor. I stuck up for myself just like you did, my darling. _

_Of course, your father tried everything in his power to make me stay – scaring me, threatening me, hurting me, and finally begging me not to go – but I never gave in. I stayed strong, just like you did, and I am pleased to say that the divorce proceedings are underway. I will make sure that you lose none of you inheritance and that he will never be able to hurt us again. _

_I have moved into a little house by the sea, so much like the house I dreamt of living in when I was younger, and I would love it if you could come and live with me. I miss you terribly, Draco. I know your father said that you were a disgraceful blood traitor for defending Muggle-borns, but I have honestly never been so proud of you. You are finally your own man, my darling, and I only wish that he hadn't punished you so severely for it. You did not deserve to pay such a heavy price for finally becoming a good person. _

_Please get back to me soon and I'll give you the address of my new home. _

_All my love, _

_Your mother, Narcissa Black_

Draco read the letter over and over again, and had never felt so torn. He missed his mother more than anything and was glad that she still cared for him after everything, but he didn't want to leave Hermione as he knew he would probably never see her again if he did. But he also knew going back to his mother, his only family, was the sensible thing to do. He couldn't stay at 12 Grimmauld Place forever, however much he wanted to.

As he told Hermione the news that he would be leaving the following day he could almost see her heart visibly breaking.

"I don't want you to leave, Draco," she said. "Oh God, that sounds so selfish..."

"It doesn't sound selfish at all," he replied. "I don't want to leave either, but I have to. We both knew this wasn't going to last forever, Hermione."

She knew he was right, but she didn't want to say it.

"Maybe we were just never meant to be together," he said sadly.

"Don't say that," she whispered.

"But it's true!" Draco insisted. "You know your friends will never accept it. They only just tolerate you being nice to me. And if Weasley doesn't butcher me on the spot, my father probably will. He disowned me and almost beat me to death when he found out I was even _thinking_ of considering Muggle-borns as equals. He'd kill me without a second thought if he knew I was madly in love with one."

Hermione suddenly looked up at Draco with a start.

"You're madly in love with me?" she asked, a smile suddenly spreading across her face.

"Of course I am, sweetheart," he said as he reached out and grasped both her hands.

"I love you too, Draco."

Her words filled him with a kind of happiness he had never felt before, a warm joy that spread through his entire body, like drinking Butterbeer on a cold day. He leaned forward and caught her lips in a sweet kiss. He never wanted to stop kissing her. He would have gladly stayed like that forever, holding her in his arms, her gorgeous lips against his. But he couldn't. He tore himself away from her.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said dejectedly. "But this isn't how things are supposed to be."

He could feel his eyes welling up with tears. Hermione had already begun to cry.

"But I've never felt this way about anyone before," she said, tears running down her cheeks. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"We have to do this," he said, trying to convince himself as well as her. "We have to go our separate ways. You'll live your life and I'll live mine. I'm not saying it'll be easy, but it's for the best. I'll go back to my mother, and you'll live the life you deserve."

"The life I deserve?" she asked.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Get married to Weasley, have lots of really intelligent ginger children."

The both laughed, but it was a sad, weak kind of laughter.

"That's not what I want, Draco. All I want is you."

He pulled her into a tight embrace, and she buried her head in his chest as his arms wrapped around her. As she sobbed against him, Hermione could feel Draco trembling. Draco hated crying in front of people, but he just couldn't hold it in anymore. He clung onto Hermione, his face wet with tears. He never wanted to let her go.

The next morning Draco went down stairs and found his packed trunk waiting for him by the front door, along with Hermione and Harry. He offered his hand to his old enemy, who willingly shook it.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Potter," he said. "I know if I was in your position I would have cursed me weeks ago, but this truce between us has been surprisingly enjoyable."

"I know," Harry agreed, chuckling. "It's been weird. Never thought I'd say this in a million years, but I'm actually a little bit sorry to see you go, mate."

They both laughed at just how completely absurd it all was. Just then Ron appeared, standing well away from the scene and silently sneering at the civil exchange between his best friend and his worst enemy. The old portrait of Mrs. Black suddenly woke up with an unattractive snort, but she didn't start her usual shouting.

"Draco, dear," she said in a sickeningly affectionate voice. "I do hope you haven't been corrupted by those loathsome blood traitors and that filthy little Mudblood."

Before anyone else had a chance to go shut the curtains, Draco reached for his wand and fired a hex at the painting, making Mrs. Black screech and the velvet curtains close. Hermione grinned at him as he put his wand back in the pocket of his robes.

"You know, you really ought to paint over that wretched thing," he said casually.

Hermione gave him a quick but very tight hug as they said their goodbyes – much to Ron's obvious annoyance – and, after thanking Hermione and Harry again, Draco left the house. With a last lingering look at Hermione, he turned on the spot and Disapparated.

"Good riddance," Ron grumbled under his breath.

Hermione shut the door, using all of her strength not to cry. Harry gave her a little hug from behind, rubbing her back to comfort her, and then followed Ron into the kitchen. She stood in the hallway, suddenly feeling puzzled. Did Harry know? She crossed her fingers behind her back as she walked over to the kitchen too, hoping that he didn't know the real reason she was so sad that Draco had gone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Six**

Draco lay awake, staring up at the ceiling. His thoughts used to keep him awake like this after the Second War, seven years previously. Every time he fell asleep he was brought back to that horrible night.

He could see Hermione lying on the floor of his drawing room, he could see the fear in her large brown eyes, and he could see her looking weak and powerless and afraid. He could hear her screams that echoed through the Manor and pierced his chest like a cold knife, he could hear his Aunt Bellatrix shouting _"Crucio!"_ at the top of her voice, and he could hear her call Hermione a filthy Mudblood. He could feel the revulsion in the pit of his stomach, he could feel the dread that Hermione might not make it though the torture, and he could feel the relief when Potter and Weasley finally arrived to save her. It had been seven long years, but it still haunted him.

But tonight something different had disturbed his sleep. He sat up in bed, pushing his hair out of his face, and looked down at the old copy of _The Daily Prophet_ which lay open on the floor of his bedroom. The first few rays of morning sun crept through the window, and in the half light Draco could read the headline that had kept him awake all night – _**Heroes of the Second War Weasley and Granger to Marry This Weekend.**_

He didn't have the heart to read the rest of the article. He couldn't even look at the picture next to it. Seeing Hermione smiling at the camera and occasionally looking up at Weasley with an expression that looked a lot like love made him feel like he'd been punched in the stomach.

'_I remember when she used to look like me like that,'_ he thought bitterly to himself.

Draco missed Hermione painfully. He had never moved on from their brief love affair six year ago, but he assumed that she had done. But at the same time he hoped that she hadn't moved on – that she still needed him, still longed for him and still loved him. As selfish as it sounded, he hoped that being apart was hurting her, because it was slowly killing him. After leaving 12 Grimmauld Place he felt empty and alone, more alone than he had ever felt before. He was lost without Hermione. During the first few nights he would find himself sobbing onto his pillow, and then he would immediately scold himself for being so pathetic.

'_Pull yourself together, Draco!'_ he would tell himself. _'Stop acting like such a Hufflepuff"'_

He was heartbroken when he found out that Hermione was getting married. He felt so stupid, because she was doing exactly what he had told her to do. She was moving on and living the life she deserved, a life that didn't involve him. He was amazed that his heart could be so shattered and yet he could still love Hermione with all the little pieces. He missed the sound of her voice, the feel of her kiss, the smell of her jasmine scented hair, and the warmth of her skin against his. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, make love to her and just _be_ with her. Every cell in his body screamed out of her. But it was pointless. He'd lost her. He'd let her go.

Daylight now shone through the window and bathed the room in light. He was just about to lie back down and attempt to get some sleep – even though he didn't feel tired at all – when there was a gentle knock on the door.

"Come in," he said, his voice sounding quiet and croaky.

A tall, beautiful woman with greying blonde hair and light blue eyes entered the room wearing an emerald green dressing gown. Draco greeted his mother, trying to sound as normal as possible, but Narcissa could see that he was unhappy. She sat down on the edge of the bed next to her son, and looked down at the old newspaper on the floor, before looking back at Draco.

"The wedding is today," she said quietly, sadly. Draco didn't respond.

Seeing him like this broke Narcissa's heart. All she wanted was for him to be happy, but she could remember the last time that he truly was. She admired his bravery when he told her all about Hermione, and she didn't mind at all that he was in love with a Muggle-born. He had expected disapproval, but she was actually very understanding. She loved that he had become his own man rather than a clone of his father, like he had been when he was a child, and she had never been so proud of him. But she hated seeing Draco so full of despair, and she had to help him.

"Draco, my little prince," she said softly – usually he argued when she called him that but he felt like being mothered. "You have to go to her."

Draco looked up at his mother with a start. He knew that she accepted his love for Hermione, but this outburst was still surprising. Narcissa continued regardless.

"I don't want you to make the same mistakes that I have, my darling," she said. "I just want you to be happy."

"Mistakes?" asked Draco. "What do you mean?"

Narcissa felt slightly weary, but knew that she should continue.

"I don't want you to give up hope just yet," she said. "Go to the wedding and see if she has truly moved on."

"But of course she's moved on, Mother," said Draco, frowning. "She's getting married..."

"That doesn't mean anything," she interrupted. "When I married your father I didn't love him. Far from it. I went through with it because that was what was expected of me. We were just keeping the magical blood pure and I've regretted it ever since. The only good thing that came out of it was you."

She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. Draco had always known that his parents' marriage was arranged – Slytherins rarely marry for love – but he had no idea of the level of his mother's regret. He stayed silent and allowed her to continue.

"I never wanted to be with Lucius. I wanted to be with... someone else." She trailed off, suddenly nervous.

"Who?" Draco asked, looking at her encouragingly.

Narcissa hesitated. What she was about to say she had never told anyone before, but she had to make him understand.

"His name was Taddeus Austen," she said quietly. "He was a half blood, in Ravenclaw. We met on the train in our first year at Hogwarts and we managed to stay the best of friends even when we were Sorted into different Houses. I was sure that when he found out who I was and my family's reputation he wouldn't want anything to do with me, but he saw passed all that – he saw _me_. We had to hide out friendship, and eventually our love. I'm not sure what I would have done if Bellatrix or my parents found out. But by my fifth year I was already betrothed to Lucius, whom my parents had decided would be the perfect pureblood match for me. I really loved Tad, more than anything, and I hated that I had to break his heart. But I knew I would be disowned, or _worse_, if my family found out that I was in love with someone who had Muggle blood in their veins. So, at the end of our final year, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways, convinced that we were doing the right thing."

She paused for a second, looking as if she was trying not to cry. Draco held her hand in both of his, listening intently.

"A few years later," she continued. "My sister, your Aunt Andromeda, was disgraced from the family after she eloped with a Muggle-born. I was sure then that my decision was the right one. But I hated being with Lucius. I hated how he would treat me if I ever did anything he disapproved of. And I never stopped missing my Tad. I regretted marrying for convenience instead of love. And it wasn't until you were born that I actually felt some kind of happiness."

A tear rolled down her pale cheek and she quickly wiped it away.

"Losing Tad was so difficult," she said. "And I don't want that to happen to you too. I know you love Hermione and I want you to at least try and be with her. I don't want you to just give up and become as lonely as me. I want you to be happy, darling. Your happiness is all that matters to me."

Narcissa could tell that Draco was lost for words, so she simply kissed him on the cheek and left the room, allowing him to think on his own.

Draco's mind was swimming with the information had just received. He finally understood why his mother was so understanding of his relationship with Hermione – it was because she had been in a similar situation. His mother had given up on true love out of fear. She did what she was supposed to do rather than what she actually wanted.

And what about his Aunt Andromeda? No one ever spoke of her until the height of the Second War, where she was seen as the part of the family tree that needed to be 'pruned'. She was seen as even more of a shameful embarrassment when her daughter married a werewolf. Draco knew that during the war his Aunt Andromeda suffered the terrible loses of her husband, daughter and son-in-law, and when he was staying at 12 Grimmauld Place Draco found out all about Andromeda's grandchild and Harry Potter's godson, Teddy Lupin. Draco felt sick to the stomach to think that it was the violent ignorance of the Dark Lord, the Death Eaters and his family that caused his second cousin to be orphaned as a baby. Draco could see why his mother believed that ending things with Taddeus Austen was the best decision. By breaking his heart she probably saved his life. But there weren't any lives at stake now.

Draco swung his legs over the edge of the bed, knocking over an empty bottle of Firewhiskey in the process, and picked up the small, tatty book on his bedside table. It was the copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ that Hermione had given him, and reading it reminded him on her. He opened the book and read the inside cover; _'Property of Hermione Jean Granger and Draco Abraxus Malfoy'_. He had always thought their names looked good together, and he ran his fingertips over her neat little handwriting as he contemplated what he was going to do.

His mother's confession notwithstanding, Draco still thought it was pointless going to the wedding. It was obvious that Hermione had moved on – she was getting married to another man, for Merlin's sake – but he still grimaced at the thought of it. He had spent the last six years brooding over their relationship, reliving every night they had spent together in his dreams, and wondering what she was going at that moment and whether she was thinking about him too. Even when he had tried to get over her and date other witches, nothing ever compared to his time with Hermione.

For just over three months Hermione and Ron had hated each other to the point of loathing. She had vented her anger at Ron to Draco, calling him childish, unreasonable, and a few other words that Draco had been surprising to hear her say. And yet now they were getting married. It just didn't make sense! It crossed Draco's mind that maybe he hadn't meant as much to Hermione as she had meant to him, since she had managed to rekindle her rocky relationship with Ron and was now – as Draco had unfortunately predicted – about to get married to him.

He could feel rage swarming through his body as he thought that in a matter of hours she would be Mrs. Hermione Weasley. It he hadn't cared so much for the book he was holding he probably would have thrown it across the room. So instead he set it down next to him on the bed and stood up. He wasn't going to let it happen. Hermione had cried and begged him to stay when he'd said he was leaving Grimmauld Place. She had said it herself that she didn't want to end up with Ron. Maybe his mother was right. Maybe she really was just marrying Ron because it was the easiest option.

Draco had to know, he was determined to find out the truth. He strode over to his wardrobe, ignoring the dent next to it where had had punched the wall after seeing the newspaper article, and started looking for some robes to wear. He had a wedding to go to.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part Seven**

Narcissa rushed back to her own room after her confession to her son, holding back her tears. She had a lot of experience in hiding her true feelings, as she had been doing it for years when she was still married to Lucius. Lucius always hated to see her cry, but not because he felt any sympathy for her. He always said that she looked ugly when she cried, and when he would hit her or curse her – due punishment for being such a dishonourable Muggle-lover, he said – seeing her tears would only make him angrier. Narcissa learnt to hold it all in and she now felt great embarrassment if she ever found herself opening crying in front of anyone, even Draco.

So she held all her emotions in until she got into her room. Once there, she went over to her wardrobe, searching right into the back of it, moving aside shoeboxes, until she found what she was looking for – a small wooden box. She took it and sat down on her bed, opening it with trembling hands. She hadn't looked through this box in years, but she had always kept it with her, hidden away. But now, after telling Draco the truth about her past, she just needed to see it all again.

Inside this seemingly unspectacular wooden box were the memories of the best years of her life. She pulled out an old photograph and finally gave into her tears. It was a picture of herself and Taddeus as she remembered him, young and handsome and happy. They must have only been about fifteen in the picture. They were sitting on the grass near the Black Lake at Hogwarts on quite a sunny day, both of them laughing. He turned his head and kissed her on the cheek, making her giggle even more.

Narcissa smiled sadly, wiping her tears away with a handkerchief, and set the photograph down on the bed. The rest of the box was full of old photos, slightly worn with age, drawings that he had done for her (Taddeus had always been an excellent artist) and, right at the bottom of the box, was a locket on a long silver chain. The locket had belonged to Taddeus' mother. She was a pureblood witch and a proud Ravenclaw, and the locket had a bronze eagle on the front. Inscribed on the back were the words _'Wit above measure is man's greatest treasure'._ Taddeus had given this to Narcissa at the end of their last year at Hogwarts, telling her that his mother had said to give the locket to the woman he wanted to marry. Inside the locket wasn't a picture, but a small piece of parchment was one word written on it – _Forever. _

Narcissa took the locket and, for the first time since she was seventeen, put it around her neck. She then picked up the first photograph and simply started at it, tears still swimming in her eyes. She could remember when that photo was taken, because it was only about a week before she had found out she was betrothed to Lucius. She could remember it like it was yesterday.

_She stood in the Astronomy Tower, impatiently waiting for him, the piece of parchment still in her hand. The letter had come that morning and she had lost count of the amount of times she had read it since her owl had brought it to her at breakfast. Her eyes felt sore from crying and her stomach lurched uncomfortably every time she thought about telling him. But he had to know. Finally he arrived, looking slightly out of breath, and ran a hand through his messy brown hair. _

"_Sorry, I'm late," he said. "I nearly ran into Peeves but I managed to escape without him noticing me."_

"_It's okay," she said. "I haven't been waiting for that long. I'm just glad you're here now."_

_They both smiled, before they walked towards each other. They met in the middle, arms instinctively wrapping themselves around each other, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss. _

"_I missed you today," she said as they separated. _

"_Missed you too, Cissy," he said, brushing her sleek blonde hair out of her face. _

_He looked at her for a second and frowned. _

"_Are you okay?" he asked. "You look as if you've been crying, love. What happened?"_

_The concern and worry in his voice was bringing more tears that she wasn't able to hold back. He held her closer and wiped away her tears with his thumb. _

"_It's alright," he said soothingly. "You know you can tell me anything, Cissy. What's the matter? Maybe I can help."_

_She shook her head and pulled away from him, the letter still clutched in her hand. _

"_You can't help, Tad," she said in a strained whisper. "There's nothing that can be done."_

"_Done about what?" he asked, sounding confused. "I don't get it."_

_She gave him the letter and walked over to the window, wiping the fresh tears from her cheek and refusing to look at him. She didn't want to see his reaction. He read the letter in silence behind her. After what felt like forever, she turned to look at him. He had finished reading and was staring at her with wide, sad eyes._

"_Malfoy?" he said, a hint of anger in his voice. "Your parents want you to marry Lucius Malfoy?"_

_She nodded. "He's a pureblood. He's in Slytherin. His family is one of the wealthiest in the country. He's perfect for me, according to them."_

"_But he's an arrogant prat!" he burst. "He doesn't deserve you, Cissy, you're way too good for him!" He sighed and shook his head. "This isn't right."_

"_But I have no choice, Tad," she said quietly. _

"_Isn't it a bit early to be thinking about all this marriage stuff though?" he asked. "You still have two more years of Hogwarts left, and you haven't ever done your O. yet."_

"_I know," she said dejectedly. "But it's all been arranged. Our families are in agreement and there's no going back. I'm... betrothed to him."_

_She squirmed as she thought about it. Of all the people her parents could have chosen for her, why did it have to be Malfoy? She had always hated him. He was arrogant and conceited, and he and his friends were obsessed with the Dark Arts. She could barely stand to be around him, yet now she was expected to spend the rest of her life with him. It made her feel sick. _

"_So I suppose this is it for us then," he said, looking at his feet. "We're over."_

_She went over to him and held his face in both her hands, making him look her right in the eye. His light hazel eyes were heartbreakingly sad. _

"_We're not over, Tad," she said. "This isn't the end, not yet. We have two more years before school is over."_

_He nodded, taking her hands from his face and wrapping his arms around her waist. _

"_Two more years," he said quietly. "We better make it count then." _

_They smiled sadly at each other, holding each other close. Her eyes were swimming with fresh tears and he looked as if he too was about to cry. They kissed again, soft and slow, and she gave into her tears once more when they separated. _

"_I love you so much, Tad," she sobbed. "It just isn't fair."_

"_I know," he whispered. "And I love you too, Cissy. Forever." _

Narcissa put the photograph on her bedside table, propped up against the candlestick holder, and the young Cissy and Tad continued to laugh together. She stood up, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief, and went over to her window. She looked out at the sea lapping against the shore, the water sparkling in the morning sunlight, and she smiled sadly to herself. She had always wanted to live by the sea, ever since Taddeus had shown her photographs of the view from his own bedroom window. The little house by the sea where he lived with his parents had seemed so wonderful, so much more perfect than the cold Manor she was expected to live in with Lucius.

So now Narcissa had her dream house by the sea, and she had her Draco. She held onto the locket around her neck and shut her eyes, hoping and praying that he wouldn't give up on true love as easily as she had done.


	8. Chapter 8

**Part Eight**

It was a warm, perfect midsummer's day. The sun beamed down brightly in the cloudless blue sky. A large white marquee had been set up in the back garden on The Burrow, much like the one Bill and Fleur had gotten married in many years before. The guests were making their way to their seats, including many old Hogwarts students and even some professors. Everyone was dressed in bright, summery robes, some of the witches wearing hats with beautiful flowers or exotic birds fluttering on them. As they sat down on the delicate golden chairs there was a hum of excited chatter in the air.

Mr. Weasley was having a rather animated conversation with Mr. Granger, who looked politely amused as he was asked how aeroplanes stayed in the air. Hagrid was sitting on his specially reinforced seat, wearing his disgusting hairy brown suit that he only wore on special occasions. He was holding a bucket sized tankard in his huge hand, and talking to Ron's second eldest brother, Charlie. George, his long red hair covering the gaping hole in the gaping hole in the side of his head where his ear used to be, was struggling to keep a straight face as he helped his Great Aunt Muriel to her seat. She was complaining loudly that he was in need of a good haircut. Teddy Lupin was chasing Ron's six year old niece, Victoire, around the rows of golden chairs, his spiky hair an alarming shade of lime green – a moment ago it had been bubblegum pink. Mrs. Weasley would probably go mad if he got any grass stains on his robes.

It was easy to tell the difference between Hermione's family and the rest of the guests. Their Muggle suits and dresses looked quite boring next to the eccentric robes of the witches and wizards.

The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement and happiness, but Hermione was feeling neither. She'd only just managed to get her mother, Mrs. Weasley and her bridesmaids, Ginny and Luna, to stop fussing over her and give her a bit of time by herself in Ginny's old bedroom. She had contemplated locking the door, but thought it might seem rude to shut everyone away, so the door was left slightly ajar. She stood in front of the mirror absent-mindedly stroking her soft, smooth hair. In an attempt to lift her spirits, Ginny had taken Hermione to a salon in Diagon Alley to get her hair done professionally for the wedding. They'd used all sorts of potions and charms to turn her bushy, brown frizz into perfect, silky curls, and it was a lot more money than she would have liked to have spent.

"It's for your wedding, Hermione," Ginny insisted. "There's nothing wrong with spending money like a Malfoy every now and again."

Needless to say, it hadn't made her feel any better.

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror, nervously twisting her engagement ring on her finger without realising.

"Pull yourself together," she said to her reflection. "You're getting married. You are going to me Mrs. Hermione Weasley."

But as she said it out loud it just didn't feel right. Saying it made her feel so hollow and, as much as she didn't want to admit it, she knew exactly what was wrong. It was the wrong name and the wrong man. She felt happiness suddenly creep from within the very middle of herself as she thought of what it would be like if she was about to marry the right man, if she was about to become Mrs. Hermione Malfoy...

But no, that wasn't what was supposed to happen. She was marrying Ron and that was final. Draco had said it himself that that was the way things were meant to be, it was the life that she deserved. She would be happy with Ron. Ron loved her, even if they did argue a lot. She had always known that, for years, forever, and she'd felt the same way... right up until Draco came along. But no, there was no point in thinking about him. She'd waited for him, hoping that one day he might come back, but he hadn't. It was too late now. She had made her choice and nothing would change her mind.

Draco made his way towards The Burrow, his well fitting black robes billowing behind him in the warm breeze. He thought black would be the appropriate colour for this tragically happy occasion. He'd read in the newspaper article that the wedding was going to be held at the Weasley's family home, and this was the first time he'd ever been to the large and crooked old house. He couldn't help but turn his nose up at the place. He didn't mean to be rube – he was sure it was lovely – but it did look as if it was being held together by magic. It looked like a strong gust of wind could easily send the haphazard building, which had miraculously housed a family of nine at one point, crumbling to the ground. It wasn't exactly the splendour he was used to but, at the same time, it looked cosy and homely and a lot more welcoming than the cold Manor he'd grown up in.

As he made his was towards the large marquee, Draco was starting to feel rather worried and increasingly out of place. The wedding guests, both Muggle and magical, were talking and laughing together as they were shown to their seats. Draco recognised many people that had been in his year at Hogwarts. They were mainly Gryffindors, with a few Ravenclaws and a handful of Hufflepuffs. The only other Slytherin besides himself was the walrus-moustached Professor Slughorn. Draco wondered whether he would even be allowed to stay without an invitation, or whether anybody would even want him there at all. As he worried to himself, he head a familiar voice say "Malfoy?"

Harry Potter was walking towards him from out of the marquee. He was wearing dark red robes, his black hair was as messy as always and sticking up at the back, his green eyes shone from behind his round glasses, and his famous lightning bolt scar was just visible behind his fringe. He strode up to Draco and shook his hand, a kind and friendly expression on his face.

"Haven't seen you in a while," he said. "Hermione never told me she invited you."

"She didn't, Potter," replied Draco in his usual bored drawl, masking his true feelings of apprehension. "But I heard she was getting married and I'm here as a well-wisher."

"Well, I'm sure you'll be allowed to stay with a proper invite," said Harry. "I know Hermione will be really happy to see you."

There was something surprisingly understanding in the way he smiled, but Draco chose to pretend he hadn't noticed.

"So tell me, Potter," he continued. "Why on Earth are they getting married _here?"_

He looked up at The Burrow with a mixture of pity and slight revulsion. Harry was also looking up at the house, but with great affection.

"Well, after Bill and Fleur got married here, it's sort of become a tradition for the Weasley kids to have their wedding at The Burrow," Harry said. "Charlie and Percy had their weddings here. George keeps on saying he never wants to get married – says him and Angelina are practically married anyway so there's no point – but I know Mrs. Weasley's still planning his all the same. And, of course, me and Ginny got married here last year."

"Oh, yes," drawled Draco, rolling his eyes. "I do remember _The Daily Prophet_ making a great fuss about _The Saviour of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter_ and the _Wedding of the Year. _As I recall, they managed to go on about it for about four or five pages... congratulations, Potter."

"Cheers, Malfoy," Harry laughed. "I can tell you really mean that."

But the friendly chat with Harry didn't make Draco forget his goal. He wanted to see Hermione. He needed to talk to her, even though he had no idea what to say. Almost as if reading his mind, Harry suddenly turned to face Draco, looking quite serious.

"If you really want to talk to Hermione before the ceremony," he said. "She's up in Ginny's old room on the second floor. I think she's alone. I suggest you don't draw too much attention to yourself though. The last thing you need is an interrogation from Mrs. Weasley. She's kind of on edge today, what with all the preparations. But Hermione will be glad to see you. She's been a bit sad lately. She says it's just pre-wedding jitters, but I'm not so sure. No one's been able to cheer her up, but I know you two were really good friends so I'm sure you can say something to make her feel better."

He smiled, patted Draco on the shoulder and walked off to go talk to some more guests. Draco had no idea what to say. Out of all the people he ever expected to help him with this awkward dilemma, Potter was at the very bottom of the list. But, then again, Draco had never expected to form a truce with someone he'd hated for so long either. Rather than dwell on Harry's motives, he ducked away from the steady flow of arriving guests and case a Disillusionment Charm over himself. After watching his body blend into his surroundings, he quickly and quietly entered The Burrow. Without making too much noise, he made his way up the stairs to the second floor. He spotted the door with the sigh saying 'Ginny' on it, which was slightly ajar. Hermione was right on the other side. She was far too lost in thought to notice the door open slightly. She didn't notice it close or lock. She didn't notice that a Silencing Charm had been put on it either.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part Nine**

Draco gazed at Hermione, his eyes hungrily consuming her form. Afraid that this could be the last time he would ever see her, he tried to take in as much as possible. Through the reflection in the mirror he could see her face. Her beautiful face, that he had fallen so in love with, had a sad expression across it, her eyes were the colour of chocolate and filled with regret, and as she coiled some of her smooth, brown hair around her finger she nervously bit her lip. Draco smiled as he remembered what it was like to kiss those lips. She looked almost angelic in her simple white satin wedding dress, which hugged her womanly figure perfectly and gleamed as the sunlight from the window hit it.

He was reminded of a line from _Romeo and Juliet_ – he practically knew it off by heart now – where Romeo sees Juliet for the first time and says _"she doth teach the torches to burn bright"._ Draco couldn't think of anything better to describe just how radiant Hermione looked. She seemed to light up the entire room with her beauty, an immense beauty that he had dreamt of for six years.

Hermione sighed and looked down at the engagement ring on her finger. Draco was surprised at just how nice it was – Weasley seemed to have really outdone himself. He stood right behind Hermione, who was completely unaware of his presence, and hesitated as to whether or not he should reveal himself. He was scared of her reaction. It was, after all, her wedding day. But she didn't look particularly happy, considering it was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. He'd gotten this far. It would be a shame to waste the opportunity, and he just had to know if she had truly moved on.

He reversed the Disillusionment Charm without speaking, and his reflection appeared in the mirror in front of him. Hermione looked back up at the mirror, let out a shriek and quickly turned around to face Draco, backing into the dressing table. Her eyes were wide with shock and her heart was throwing itself against her chest.

"Draco!" she cried, her voice sounding shrill and hysterical. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," he replied.

The sound of his voice sent pleasant shivers down her spine. Her cheeks flushed with pink, which made the corners of Draco's mouth twitch. He's almost forgotten how cute she looked when she blushed.

"You shouldn't have come here," said Hermione, shaking her head. "I'm getting married."

Draco unconsciously stepped forward and put his hands around her waist. Encouraged by the fact that she didn't stop him, he pulled her closer. She sighed and shut her eyes as he leaned in and kissed her ever so gently. All her dreams faded into nothing, the fantasies of the past six years paled in comparison to the feel of Draco's soft lips against her own. She could feel herself melting into him, but her conscience was telling her that this was all wrong. She reluctantly pushed him away.

"Stop it, Draco!" she said, breathless from the kiss. "You can't just show up after six years and expect me to drop everything for you. I'm getting married!"

"I know!" Draco burst. "That's why I'm here."

"Why, so you can stop me?" she scoffed. "You're unbelievable! You may not have moved on, Draco, but I have and nothing you say or do is going to change that. You were the one who said we weren't meant to be together. What happened to 'You live your life and I'll live mine'?"

"I was wrong," he said desperately. "I thought I could just get over you, but I couldn't... I haven't. Haven't you ever thought that maybe we _were_ supposed to be together?"

"For Merlin's sake, Draco, don't do this to me!" she said, close to tears. "I don't deserve this."

"You're right, Hermione," he said sadly. "You deserve a lot better than me, and I certainly never deserved you. You should have just left me to die that night. I never deserved your humanity. I'm such a terrible person."

Hermione looked up at him. Draco looked as if he was about to cry.

"You're not a terrible person, Draco," she whispered.

He looked deep into her chocolaty brown eyes, wanting so much to kiss her again.

"I miss you, Hermione," he said softly. "And I don't want to lose you again. I can't sit back and watch while you get married to Weasley. I..."

"Don't say it," she cut in.

He paused for a second, before saying "...love you. I love you, Hermione, more than anything in the world. You're my reason for living. I would do anything for you... die for you."

Hermione could feel herself beginning to cry. She had wanted for so long to hear him say that to her, but it was just too late now. Draco's grey eyes were shining with tears and she could tell he was struggling to hold them back. She knew he hated crying in front of people.

"Getting over you was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do," she said, her voice shaking. "These past six years have seemed to go on forever, and every single day the only thing I've ever been able to think about it you. My dreams are full of memories of all those amazing nights we spent together. I hoped that one day you would come back and we could try and be together properly, because I really do love you, Draco. But you have terrible timing! I agreed to marry Ron because I didn't think you would ever come back, and I don't want to break he heart..."

"But what about my heart, Hermione?" he interrupted, and a single tear escaped his eye. "You're so worried about hurting Weasley, and yet you have no trouble hurting me!"

"It's not like that at all!" she said, her voice cracking as she cried. "Please, Draco, just go."

Draco quickly wiped the tears from his face. He hated crying in front of people, especially her.

"Fine, I'll go. But..." He felt foolish asking, but he was desperate. "Will you kiss me again? Just one last time, please? And then I swear I'll leave you alone for good."

Hermione was unsure at first, but then she took his face in her both he hands and looked deep into his eyes, wiping a fresh tear from his cheek with her thumb. She pulled him towards her and kissed him. Draco held her close, resting one hand on the small of her back and the other on the back of her head. When their lips separated they were both trembling, their faces wet with tears. He gave her one last tight hug, burying his face in her jasmine scented hair.

"Goodbye, Draco," Hermione whispered in his ear, making his whole body tingle.

He continued to hold her close.

"I'll love you forever, Hermione," he whispered.

"I know," she said in between sobs. "So will I."

She let go and, without looking at him, left the room, frantically wiping the tears from her face as she went and hoping that her make-up wasn't too messed up. If anyone asked she could just say they were tears of joy. No one needed to know that she was still hopelessly in love with Draco and that seeing him again and hearing how much he loved her too was making her feel insanely guilty. No, she was doing the right thing by going through with the wedding. Draco would understand.

But he didn't understand. He stood exactly where she'd left him in Ginny's room, crying and not bothering to wipe away his tears. How could she do this? How could she say she still loved him and yet continue to go through with this sham of a wedding? It was just because she was afraid of breaking Weasley's heart, but wouldn't it break his heart more if she lied to him and pretended to love him when she didn't? The longer she left it, the longer she kid herself, the worse it would be. His mother had been right, Draco thought. Hermione was marrying for convenience, and she hadn't moved on at all. But it was too late to stop her. She's made her choice.


	10. Chapter 10

**Part Ten**

There was a great buzz of excitement in the marquee. Ron was standing at the front wearing the same dark red robes as his best man, Harry. He looked somewhere between elated and a little bit nauseous. Another chair had been conjured at the back row where Draco was reluctantly sitting, feeling extremely uncomfortable. The band began to play soft music as the flower girl and the page boy made their way down the aisle. Victoire was throwing red and white rose petals on the ground and grinning at her parents, while Teddy – whose hair was now turquoise – was carrying the wedding rings on a small cushion and trying his very best not to trip over his own feet.

'_So that's my cousin Teddy...'_ Draco thought to himself.

Then came the bridesmaids, wearing red dresses and both carrying small bouquets of white roses. They both had their hair done up in a knot behind their head. Ginny looked beautiful, and Luna looked almost normal – Mrs. Weasley had eventually convinced her to take off her radish earrings. Then came the moment that Draco had been dreading. Hermione's appearance was met with smiles, quiet gasps and whispers of how amazing she looked by the guests. Her father escorted her down the aisle, grinning from ear to ear, while Hermione blushed slightly at all the attention, her heart threatening to burst through her chest.

'_Calm down,'_ she told herself. _'You're doing the right thing. You are supposed to be Mrs. Hermione Malfoy... I mean, Weasley! Mrs. Hermione Weasley! Oh God... okay, you can do this. Just breathe deeply and smile. Pretend that whatever went on in Ginny's room never, ever, ever happened. You are marrying the right person. Draco is the right person... I mean, Ron! Ron is the right person! Oh Merlin, why do I keep doing that?'_

She was so caught up in the fierce internal battle going on inside her head that she didn't even really notice that she was standing at the front with Ron, or that the wizard performing the ceremony had started talking. She wasn't listening at all, but looking up at Ron beaming down at her. She tried to smile but he just looked so happy, which made her feel like the single worst human being on the planet.

"Do you, Ronald Billius, take Hermione Jean to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"I do," said Ron, grinning.

Hermione didn't think it was possible to feel any worse than she already did right now.

"And do you, Hermione Jean, take Ronald Billius to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

A deafening silence followed that went on forever. The whole world seemed to be holding its breath. Everything stopped moving for those few long, brutal seconds. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Draco standing up to leave, no longer able to watch. She couldn't lie anymore, she just couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she whispered, shaking her head. "But I – I just can't do this. I can't keep lying to you. I can't – I can't keep lying to myself. I'm so sorry."

She pulled off her engagement ring and put it in his hand. Ron looked completely stunned, standing like a wide-eyed statue, and his ears had turned scarlet. Hermione turned and walked quickly back up the aisle towards Draco, who stood entirely frozen. She stopped right in front of him and looked into his eyes. There were gasps and mutterings from the guests that neither Draco nor Hermione could really hear. She smiled up at him – her special smile, a smile that spoke volumes, a smile that filled him with warmth and happiness, a smile that she only had when she looked at him. Neither knew what to say, but it didn't matter. It was like they already knew what the other was thinking. Everything else seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them, his Hermione and her Draco...

And then reality came crashing back. Several things all seemed to happen in the space of a few seconds. Draco felt someone grab him by the hair and knuckles hit his face. He fell, his head hitting the ground hard, but before he could even comprehend what had happened he received a hard kick to the stomach, winding him. He tried to reach for his wand but Ron, who was bigger and stronger than him, pinned him to the ground and punched him in the face again. Draco knew his nose had been broken and he could feel warm dripping down his face. Strong hands then wrapped around his neck tightly, making it impossible to breath. The screams and yells from the guests sounded as if they were coming from miles away. All he could see was the hazy image of Ron's livid face looming above him, screaming a string of swear words.

"No, Ron!" Hermione cried. "Stop it! Get off him!"

But his hands only tightened around Draco's neck. Draco knew he was about to pass out and he was feeling too weak to free himself. Ron was blinded by an intense rage. How could Malfoy dare to turn up here, at his bloody wedding, and steal Hermione from him? He wanted to kill the stupid little git, but suddenly he felt something tug on his ankle and, before he knew it, he was lifted high into the air. Hermione rushed over and knelt beside Draco, who was coughing and spluttering on the ground.

"LET – ME – DOWN!" yelled Ron, his face turning violently red as he hung upside down in midair.

"Not until you calm down!" shouted Harry, his wand pointed at him.

Draco was gasping for breath, his vision was blurred, his head was pounding and his face was covered in blood. He could see a fuzzy shape that he knew to be Hermione leaning above him and saying something, although he couldn't hear a word. Other fuzzy faces were above him now, and he felt himself being lifted up before everything went black.


	11. Chapter 11

**Part Eleven **

"I guess I have a lot of explaining to do."

Hermione sat on the sofa in the living room of The Burrow. Ron sat in the armchair that his Dad usually sat in and was looking at the floor, and Harry stood beside him. The atmosphere was painfully tense. After a silence that seemed to last several hours Hermione whispered "I'm really sorry."

"How long has this been going on?" said Ron, his eyes still on the floor.

"It's... it's complicated," Hermione stuttered.

"Then explain it," he said harshly, his voice carrying around the room. He still wasn't looking at her. "You said you couldn't lie anymore. What did you mean by that?"

"I... I meant that I couldn't keep on pretending that this was what I wanted," she said quietly.

"So it's Malfoy that you want than, is it?" he said, sounding disgusted at the very idea.

Hermione was silent for a second, and then said "Yes."

Ron grimaced, but he still didn't look at her.

"When did this happen?" he asked, even though he didn't really want to know.

"It was six years ago..."

"Six years ago?" he interrupted, but Harry put his hand on his shoulder and he was silent again.

Hermione continued quietly. "It was six years ago, when were all living at 12 Grimmauld Place. That was when Draco and I, erm... got together. After he left I tried to convince myself that me and you being together was what was meant to happen, but..."

"So you've been lying to me this whole time?" he interrupted again, finally looking at her. "You've been telling me that you love me when all this time you've really wanted him?"

"I did love you, Ron," she said. "And I do really care about you."

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it," he said, glaring at her.

"I know," she said, her chest tightening with guilt. "Nothing you say is going to make me hate myself more than I already do. But you have to admit, Ron, that we didn't exactly have the best relationship in the world, even before Draco came along."

Ron didn't say anything, but she could tell the he knew she was right.

"You know it's true," she insisted. "We were arguing worse than before he started going out, so I doubt marriage would have been any better for either of us. I know I should have ended things sooner, and certainly not like this. I've just made everything worse. But everyone kept saying what a lovely couple we made, and I felt like I couldn't disappoint them, like I had to make everyone else happy rather than think about myself."

"So what changed today then?" Ron asked, quieter.

"Draco came back," she said. "And I never thought he would. He told me he still loves me," (Ron grimaced again, frowning at his hands). "But I was still trying to convince myself that I was doing the right thing by going through with the wedding. I felt so guilty knowing that I was breaking his heart so badly. It was like having to decide whether to break his heart or yours. But you have to understand that I never, ever wanted to hurt you like this, Ron. I just can't keep on lying. I love him."

Just then Draco came into the room. Mrs. Weasley had fixed his nose, although there was still some dried blood on his robes. He tried his best not to look directly at Ron as he prepared himself for the worst. He sat next to Hermione on the sofa. He wanted to hold her hand or something, but Ron still looked a bit murderous. He made sure there was plenty of space between them.

"I'm sorry," Ron suddenly said.

"I – what?" Draco spluttered, looking beyond confused.

No one in the room has expected it. Even Ron himself looked a bit surprised by what he'd just said.

"I'm sorry that I, erm..."

"Tried to strangle me?" Draco offered.

Ron nodded awkwardly.

"That's alright, Weasley," said Draco. "I would have done the same in your position. Actually I would have hexed me or something, but your way was good too."

Ron shifted uncomfortably on his chair and fiddled with the cuff of his robes, and Draco looked up at Harry.

"So, Potter," he said. "Why were you so keen on me seeing Hermione? I mean, you told me where she was and that she was alone and everything, but why?"

"I just figured since you guys were such good friends back at Grimmauld Place you could talk to her and cheer her up a bit. I had no idea that you two were... you know. I didn't!" he added when Ron glared at him.

The truth was that Harry had always known about the two of them. Once, when he and Ron had left Draco and Hermione alone one day to go to the Ministry, Harry had come back for his forgotten gold and accidently spotted the couple kissing in Hermione's room. But he wasn't going to say that in front of Ron.

Draco smirked at Harry, before looking back at Ron.

"I should be the one apologising," he said kindly. "I just hope that we can put the past behind us, for Hermione's sake. I know that neither of us have ever seen eye to eye, and I know that what I just said was a gigantic understatement, but we shouldn't be fighting, Weasley. Although I would understand completely if you wanted to hit a few more times, just to get it out of your system."

Ron smiled, although he didn't mean to.

"I'm alright, thanks," he said.

Draco stood up and offered his hand to Ron, who also stood up and, after a lot of hesitation, wearily shook it. He let go of Draco's hand quickly, as if afraid of getting burnt. Very suddenly, Hermione burst into tears, which took everyone by surprise. She jumped out of her seat and wrapped her arms around Ron's neck.

"T-thank you, R-Ron!" she sobbed. "Thank y-you for underst-standing! I'm still s-so s-s-sorry!" She pulled away from him and looked at him imploringly. "I-I hope w-we can still be f-friends after this. I st-still want to b-be your friend, Ron."

Ron was understandably taken aback. "Er, of course we can still be friends."

Hermione started sobbing even harder and hugged him again. Harry and Draco caught each other's eye and looked away, trying not to laugh. Hermione finally let go of Ron, wiping the tears from her face and grinning broadly. She turned to Draco and kissed him quickly on the cheek, and he turned and put his arm around her. Ron's ears turned red.

"Yeah, that wasn't at all awkward or uncomfortable to watch..." he murmured.

The situation was explained to the guests, and Hermione personally apologised to every single one of them at least four times – she apologised to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley about seven times. Draco led her out of the front door and they walked hand in hand towards the gate.

"Thank you," he said, smiling down at her.

"For what?" she asked.

"Saving me, choosing me... everything."

He pulled her into a tight hug, smelling her beautiful jasmine scented hair. It felt so good to hold her in his arms again.

"Hold on tight, my love," he whispered in her ear. "I don't want you getting splinched."

He turned on the spot and they were plunged into darkness, leaving The Burrow behind. Hermione tightened her grip around Draco as she felt the familiar sensation of being squeezed through a small tube. After a few seconds their feet once again touched solid ground and their lungs filled with fresh air. Hermione let go of Draco and looked around. They were standing at the top of a hill, surrounded by acres of lush, green countryside. At the bottom of the hill was a calm, sparkling lake and just visible in the distance were the neat houses of a village. They were standing just outside the gate of a large house with ivy growing up the white walls and colourful flowers in the garden.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Hampshire," said Draco. "My parents had this house built for me when I turned seventeen, as a coming of age gift."

Hermione raised her eyebrows as she looked up at the grand house. "Wow."

"I know," he laughed. "It was meant to be somewhere for me to live once I left home. I own most of the land around it too. One of the many things Mother got to keep in the divorce. I've never actually lived her though."

"Why didn't you just sell it or something?" she asked.

"I was going to," he said. "But I decided to keep the place. I have recently done a bit of redecorating though."

He opened the gate, took Hermione's hand and led her across the path and into the house.

Every room that he showed her was grand and luxurious – she would have expected nothing less from a Malfoy – but the house was also very warm, inviting and homely. It was obvious that no one really lived there. There were no photographs or portraits anywhere, and although the house was fully furnished it still looked sort of empty. But the house still had a very personal feel to it. It took her no time at all to notice that all the rooms were decorated mainly in an equal measure of green, silver, red and gold – Slytherin and Gryffindor colours. There were five spacious bedrooms, not to mentions three bathrooms, a study and a library. It was as if the place was designed to house a family.

Draco ended the tour in the master bedroom, which had a huge four poster bed in the centre, opposite a fireplace which was between two wardrobes. There was a door leading off to the en suite bathroom, and the window was surrounded by deep red velvet curtains and gave a spectacular view of the front garden and the surrounding fields. Hermione walked over to the window and looked out at the sun setting over the beautiful, shimmering lake, the branches in the trees swaying gently in the breeze and the tiny, toy-like houses in the distant village. Everything looked so perfect. She felt like she was looking out onto an incredible dream, the perfection too great to truly be real.

Draco felt the same as he looked at Hermione. He couldn't believe that she was really here, in the house that he had kept just for her. At the time it had seemed childish to keep the house, to think that he could ever have a future with her when it was so impossible. But now she was actually here and she'd chosen him. He kept expecting to wake up at any moment and be back in his room in his mother's house by the sea, surrounded by empty Firewhiskey bottles and a tear-sodden pillow, being taunted by the announcement of Hermione's wedding. But he _was_ awake. This was all real.

He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, softly kissing her cheek. Hermione felt so warm and safe in Draco's arms and the happiness she felt was too vast to measure. Draco never wanted to let her go. He loved her, he needed her, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

"Marry me," he whispered.

Hermione smiled, looking out at the perfect sunset and her own perfect future with the man she loved more than anything. She turned in his arms and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Of course," she said softly.

Everything that had happened in the past just didn't matter anymore. The only thing that mattered at that moment was their love.


	12. Chapter 12

**Part Twelve – Epilogue **

Summer came early that year and brought with it a scorching heat that made it difficult to do anything constructive during the day. There was a hum of bees and butterflies in the garden and the sound of birds in the trees, while a gnome dug for worms in the flowerbed.

Draco and Hermione were spending their weekend at home relaxing, as Hermione's parents had taken the children to the cinema. Once Hermione explained, very patiently, to Draco what a cinema actually was he found it so remarkable that he felt quite upset that he wasn't going with them. But he would much rather spend the day pampering his pregnant wife than watching some Muggle kids' film. Juliet, who was very mature for a five year old, promised to tell her Daddy everything that happened in the film, while Taddeus, her four year old brother, said he would bring his Daddy back as many Muggle sweets as he could carry.

Draco and Hermione were sitting at the kitchen table, talking about nothing in particular as Draco read over some paperwork for the Ministry and Hermione demolished her fifth slice of toast and marmalade – she was, after all, eating for two. An ageing Crookshanks sat on Draco's lap, purring as Draco absent-mindedly stroked him. Just then, a tiny owl came zooming through the open window, hooting wildly, and landed with a crash on the table, nearly knocking over Draco's coffee.

"Oh, for goodness sake!" said Draco, moving his paperwork out of the way. "I hate this bloody bird!"

"Pigwidgeon isn't that bad," Hermione insisted. "He's just a bit... enthusiastic."

"What you call enthusiastic, I call irritating," Draco grumbled.

Crookshanks leapt from his lap and onto the floor, hissing at the owl. He didn't like it that much either. Pigwidgeon – who was still very small and hadn't gotten any less hyperactive with age – stopped fidgeting long enough for Hermione to take the letter off his leg. He nipped her fingers with his beak playfully before flying on top of the fridge, hooting happily and obviously very pleased with himself. Crookshanks stared at him, looking murderous. Hermione unrolled the piece of parchment and began to read.

_Dear Hermione, _

_Me and Melissa just got back from our honeymoon. Barcelona was great, although I did get a little bit sunburnt. Melissa literally hasn't stopped laughing._

_Thanks again for the wedding present. The Felix Felicis you brewed for us is brilliant, although neither of us have actually taken any yet. We're planning to use it wisely. Melissa says I should have taken some in Barcelona, then I wouldn't have been unlucky enough to get burnt to a crisp. Tell Draco that his sister is not bloody funny. _

_Ginny told me that you and Draco are expecting a baby girl. Congratulations! If your last two kids are anything to go by, I'm sure Draco is going to spoil this new baby rotten. I wouldn't be surprised if he's already gone and bought her a goblin-made silver rattle or something equally as unnecessary. Melissa says you should nip Draco's behaviour in the bud now before it gets out of hand, because she doesn't want her nieces and nephew to be spoilt brats. Her words, not mine. _

_Hopefully we'll see you all soon. Mum and Dad send their love. _

_Ron_

_P.S. Sorry if Pig's being a pain. It's been a while since his last delivery. Thought he was going to explode with excitement when I tried to tie this to his leg. Nightmare. _

"So what does it say?" asked Draco.

"Ron and Melissa just got back from their honeymoon," she replied, smiling. "Ron got a bit sunburnt."

"I'm guessing my dear baby step-sister is being very sensitive about that," Draco smirked.

"Of course not," Hermione chuckled.

"I can't believe those two have finally gotten married," he said. "They've been together for about a million years. Although to be honest I always thought Melissa was a bit, you know... miles out of his league."

"You're only saying that because she's your little sister," she said. "And there's nothing wrong with an unexpected pairing, love."

She told hold of his hand, and Draco smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. Hermione took a sip of her very, very sweet tea – she'd get over these sugar cravings once the baby was born – and looked at Draco thoughtfully.

"Melissa is your step-sister," she said.

Draco looked at his with furrowed eyebrows. "Yes, I'm aware of that."

"And she's now married to Ron."

"I don't see where you're going with this, darling."

Hermione grinned. "So that means that Ron is now your step-brother-in-law. You and Ron are brothers."

She laughed as Draco shuddered a little bit.

"Good grief," he said. "You better not point that out to him."

"Oh, I plan to," Hermione said with an innocent smile. "I'm going to remind you both as often as possible."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Great..."

A few hours later the sun was beginning to set and a cool, refreshing breeze was sweeping in through the open windows. Draco lay on the sofa, his back to the armrest, while Hermione rested against his chest with a book propped up against her bump. He kissed the top of her head, burying his nose in her bushy jasmine scented hair, while he rested his hand on her bump.

"The kids will be home soon," Hermione said drowsily.

"Well," said Draco. "We better make the most of the peace and quiet until then, sweetheart."

He tightened his hold around her as her eyelids became heavier.

It was nice spending time together like this, not needing to talk. Usually they had to spend their time working, looking after the children and doing the housework. Draco had suggested before Juliet was born that they get a house elf to help with the chores. Hermione refused, hating the idea of having an unpaid slave in the house that referred to her as their mistress. It just made her comfortable. Draco pointed out – and regretted saying it out loud seconds later – that house elves enjoy working because that's just want they're for, and a good house elf would never accept payment. That remark resulted in a week long argument, which Hermione won. Draco knew that she was always right. Even when she was wrong, she was always right.

Hermione's breathing was becoming slower and more regular, so Draco knew she was falling asleep. The sound of his steady heartbeat always made her feel soothed and relaxed. Nothing made them happier than falling asleep in each other's arms, just the two of them (three if you counted the bump, and four if you counted Crookshanks snoozing by the fire). Just his Hermione and her Draco. At that moment, all was well.


	13. Chapter 13

This is how hardcore I am.  
>I thought up their entire future.<br>Go me :)

* * *

><p><strong>The Future of the Malfoy Family – Everything That Cannot Be Put Into a Story<strong>

_Draco Abraxus Malfoy _

After his mother gets remarried to Taddeus Austen – Narcissa is inspired to find him after Draco gets back with Hermione – Draco gains a step sister, Melissa. She is three years younger than him and a Ravenclaw like her father. Her Muggle-born mother was killed during the Second War for refusing to register, and Melissa and her father went into hiding abroad, coming back to rebuild their lives after the war ended. They both run a shop together in Diagon Alley called _Austen's Magic and Muggle Music Emporium. _

Draco and Melissa become very close very quickly, and he treats her like she's been his baby sister forever rather than for a few years. He's very protective of her, especially when she starts a relationship with Ron Weasley. Ron and Melissa first meet at Draco and Hermione's wedding, and are together for ages before finally getting married themselves about a month before the birth of the Malfoy's third child. Ron was reluctant to get married straight away, considering how his first wedding turned out.

Even though he thinks of Melissa as his sister, Draco still calls his step-father 'Mr. Austen', even though he is constantly being told to be less formal, and even though his own children just call him Granddad.

Draco has a career at the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, working tirelessly to stamp out the surprising amount of pro-pureblood extremists that still operate throughout the Wizarding world. It is this work that gains respect from everyone who still saw him as a Death Eater, and helps to change people's assumptions when first hearing the name Malfoy. Draco is also a strong pro-Muggle activist and helps get Arthur Weasley's Muggle Protection Act finally passed.

Draco is a very loving husband and father. He takes care of Hermione while she's pregnant, changes nappies and does night feeds with very little argument, and dotes on all his children. Even though Hermione wishes he wouldn't, Draco spoils his son and two daughters. He can be a disciplinarian when necessary, although he can never stay mad at them for too long, especially his girls. Before they start Hogwarts, Draco teaches his children to play the piano and gives them flying lessons, just like he got when she was a child.

_Hermione Jean Malfoy_

Before her relationship with Draco, Hermione wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to do as a career. She didn't really want to work for the Ministry and she couldn't see herself becoming an Auror like Harry and Ron. It was while caring for Draco after he was nearly killed by his father that made her realise that she wanted to become a Healer. Draco had even said that she should be one during his stay at 12 Grimmauld Place, although he had just been paying her a compliment at the time and he never thought that she would actually take him at his word.

Hermione immerses herself in her Healer training during the six years that she and Draco are apart, as it takes her mind off how much misses him. Because of her exceptional intelligence, magical ability and dedication, she excels quickly and becomes the youngest Healer-in-Charge at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries in over a century. She specializes in Healing injuries caused by the Dark Arts, and enjoys her work a lot, only stopping during her maternity leave and to spend time with her family.

Hermione encourages all her children to read, as they all appear to have inherited her intelligence and she doesn't want it to go to waste, so the Malfoy house is full of books. She doesn't want to be a pushy parent, but sometimes she just can't help it as she wants her children to succeed in everything they do. She always ends up taking the role of the strict parent as, although Draco is good at disciplining them too, she thinks he can be far too lenient with them sometimes. She also doesn't like how much he spoils them. She doesn't really like how much Draco spoils her either. For their wedding, Draco insisting that they have the best of everything, but Hermione just couldn't help but look at the prices, something that Draco hardly ever does. But, eventually, he learnt that she prefers things to be more understated.

Hermione becomes very close to her mother-in-law, Narcissa Austen, and her step sister-in-law, Melissa. She also manages to stay friends with Ron, and even sets him up on his first date with Melissa. She enjoys reminding Ron and her husband that, now that Ron and Melissa are married, they are now technically brothers. The way they both shudder never stops being funny.

_Juliet Rose Malfoy _

The eldest of the Malfoy children, named after Shakespeare's Juliet Capulet and Hermione's grandmother, Rose. Juliet resembles her father the most in appearance. She has white blonde, slightly curly hair, grey eyes that are the exact colour and shape as Draco's, pale skin and a pointed face. As a child she always acted very mature for her age, although she bickered with her younger brother a lot. She is a complete and utter Daddy's girl and always will be.

At Hogwarts she is Sorted into Slytherin, and in her first year she received ridicule from some of the older members of her House, those who came from families who were pro-pureblood and pro-Voldemort during the Second War and still held those beliefs. The Malfoy name had a bad reputation amongst the old pureblood families, who all saw Draco as a coward and a blood traitor, especially after he married Hermione. A number of older Slytherins thought that Juliet shouldn't be in their House because she had a Muggle-born mother and a blood traitor father, but she was strong and extremely proud of her parents and stuck up for them so fiercely that only once did anyone dare insult them in front of her.

She proved to be the brightest witch in her year, matching the high accomplishments of her mother. The only other people who matched her incredible grades were her younger brother and sister. She joined the Slytherin Quidditch team in her second year, the first girl the team had had in years. She's a Seeker just like her father was – he's very proud of her – and helps Slytherin win the Quidditch Cup twice, beaten only by Gryffindor, which she didn't really mind that much. She inevitably becomes the team captain and brings about a new regime of picking players who can actually play rather than just the people who are the biggest and most menacing – the old method had resulted in her having to, in her own words, carry the whole team.

She was made a Prefect in her fifth year, something that she was almost annoyingly happy about, and her greatest desire was to be Head Girl. She saw it as her job as Prefect – and future Head Girl, obviously – to encourage some inter-House unity, mainly between Slytherin and the rest of the school.

She was popular, not only with the other Slytherins, but with all the other Houses too. She was also very popular with boys and had a lot of boyfriends during her time at Hogwarts, although once she finished school – with all Outstandings, of course – she didn't have time for boys. She was far too busy trying to be the next Minister of Magic. She's very ambitious.

As ambitious, intelligent and popular as she is, it could be said that Juliet inherits all the bad things about her parents. She's stubborn, slightly spoilt, overly proud of her appearance and abilities, can be a little bit conceited sometimes and is a shameless know-it-all. But don't hold it against her – she loves her friends and family more than anything, and she's a nice person once you get to know her.

_Taddeus Hayden Malfoy_

The middle child, named after Draco's step father who is also named Taddeus Hayden. He is a year younger than Juliet and, like her, resembles their father. However his hair is dark brown, almost black, and very curly and he has his mother's chocolaty brown eyes. As a child, Taddeus excelled the most during his father's music lessons and, as well as being able to play the piano like all the Malfoy children, he also teaches himself to play the guitar and he is a very good singer. He writes songs in his spare time.

Taddeus was Sorted into Gryffindor when he started at Hogwarts, the first known Malfoy to ever do so. He too became the smartest student in his year, although he was a lot more relaxed about his school work than his older sister, and he eventually becomes a Prefect too. He joins the Gryffindor Quidditch team in his second year, playing the position of Chaser, and is considered to be one of the best. His father is just as proud of him as he is of Juliet, although it does get a bit awkward when Slytherin and Gryffindor play against each other. Draco helps them both with their training during the summer holidays, but Juliet and Taddeus are both naturally competitive, especially against each other, and they always end up bickering.

Taddeus is best friends with a Muggle boy called Mark, who lives in the village near his house. Mark knows that the Malfoys are a Wizarding family, and also knows a lot about the Wizarding world as a whole because his cousin is a Muggle-born witch. The two boys become the best of friends at an early age and stay friends even when Taddeus is at Hogwarts, sending letters to each other about the goings on in their schools. Taddeus' letters were always longer and a lot more interesting. When they're fifteen, the boys start a band with some of Mark's school friends, Taddeus as lead singer and guitarist and Mark playing the bass. They haven't thought of a name for their band yet.

Taddeus only had one sort-of-girlfriend when he was at school, who happened to be his best friend in Gryffindor and also the youngest of the Potter children. This doesn't last very long though, and eventually he realises that he doesn't like girls at all, which Lily Potter helps him come to terms with. He is terribly nervous about coming out to his family, but when he does he finds that they are all very supportive and accepting. His sisters weren't surprised at all and didn't treat him any differently, even when he brought Mark home as his boyfriend rather than just his friend – Mark had always been seen as part of the family, and Juliet used to refer to him as 'Tad's boyfriend' anyway.

_Andrea Narcissa Malfoy _

The baby of the family, Andrea is four years younger than her brother. She is named after her grandmother and her first name is an alteration of her grandmother's sister's name, Andromeda. She resembles her mother the most as she has curly brown hair, brown eyes and pale skin.

She is the quietest of all the Malfoys and had read every book in the house by the time she was ten. She did well in her piano lessons, but was never very good at flying as she couldn't stand the heights. She could go an entire day without saying a word, and this incredible achievement gained her the ironic nickname 'Chatterbox' from her brother. Taddeus was usually the only person that she would properly talk to, although the whole family just seemed to know what she was saying without her having to actually say it.

Before entering Hogwarts, Andrea was worried about what House she might be Sorted into, as her father and sister were Slytherins, her mother and brother were Gryffindors and she didn't want to disappoint anyone. However, there was no need to have worried at all as she ended up being Sorted into Ravenclaw.

Like her older siblings before her, Andrea became the highest achieving student in her year, something that was now to be expected of all Malfoys. Just like in her home life, Andrea didn't really talk much at school, except for during lessons when she was answering questions.

Unlike her siblings, she never joined the Ravenclaw Quidditch team and concentrated entirely on her studies. Although she's a proud Ravenclaw, she doesn't really have time for Quidditch, although she'll support her brother and sister when they're playing – unless they're playing each other, in which case she refuses to take sides.

Because she's so much younger than them, Juliet and Taddeus are very protective of her and always looked out for her at school. As she got older she started to fight her own battles more, especially when Juliet and Taddeus both finish Hogwarts. Just like all the Malfoys, Andrea also becomes a Prefect, which helps her become more outspoken. Her greatest ambition is to become a fiction writer, inspired by all the old literature of her mother's that she's read. She would love to write under a pseudo-name so that she could have her novels sold in Muggle bookshops.


End file.
